


The Object of my Affection

by StrawberryLane



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Birthday, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Sex, Insecure Percival, Insecurity, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Percival wears glasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:36:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9671081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryLane/pseuds/StrawberryLane
Summary: As already established, Credence Barebone could have just about anyone he wanted, and why he chose a gray at the temples, workaholic 40 year old, is anyone's guess, Percival's included.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1184.html?thread=1907616#cmt1907616) kinkmeme prompt. 
> 
> This fic could be seen as a companion piece to Lemonbright.
> 
> The title is a song called "The object of my affection," which was first released in 1934 by Jimmie Grier and his orchestra and Pinky Tomlin, who also was one of the people who wrote it. The version I first heard, though, was a cover by Emmy Rossum, released in 2013.
> 
> This little fic is dedicated to [flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame) for having commented on every single one of my FBAWTFT fics and being generally awesome! It means a lot!

On the last day of May 1927, Percival Graves turns 40 years old. Honestly, it's an age he never thought he'd actually see, not only because he fights criminals on a weekly basis, subjecting himself to killing curses, but also because 40 always seemed so far away. 40, it's practically ancient, he's always thought.

And now, sitting at the dinner table in his and Credence's shared house, with a bakery made cake in front of him, it's reality.

Credence is beaming at him from the other side of the table, already digging into his own slice of raspberry and chocolate cake. Percival had been woken up this morning by Credence singing, if somewhat badly, an enthusiastic version of the happy birthday song and handing him an impeccably wrapped gift from Janer & Pelowski Co, a no-maj tailoring company.

The day has been spent doing nothing much at all, because Percival isn't the most sociable person even on a great day and Credence has never been one to throw surprise parties. Instead, it's just the two of them, eating cake and spending time together, which suits Percival just fine.

Everything would have been peachy keen, if not for the fact that Percival can't forget that he's actually 40 years old now and will only, as time goes on, become older. He's not sure if it would bother him as much if Credence had been closer to 40 as well. As it is, Percival's boyfriend is not yet 25 years of age.

Percival can't actually comprehend why Credence chose to be with him of all people. The boy, now that's he's slowly becoming more confident and losing that permanent slouch of his shoulders, could have just about anyone he wanted. He's gorgeous too, bowl cut or not, especially when he comes out of his shell and actually shows open joy at things. That smile of his does things to Percival, like filling his heart with so much fondness Percival feels like he's actually going to explode.

Sometimes, Percival wants to dig up Mary Lou Barebone's body, if only to kill her again and bury her body in the seventh circle of hell.

Percival and Credence have only been together for a short while – about five months – but Percival would be lying if he didn't admit that turning 40 has made him rethink some things about himself and his relationship.

As already established, Credence Barebone could have just about anyone he wanted, and why he chose a gray at the temples, workaholic 40 year old, is anyone's guess, Percival's included.

On the morning after his 40 birthday, Percival realizes he keeps squinting whilst trying to read, as if squinting would actually help make the words appear larger at all. He reaches for his glasses, putting them on.

He doesn't want to admit to himself that the reason he takes them off half an hour later is because Credence, who's been asleep next to him, is waking up. Pocketing his glasses in the pocket of his robe, Percival mutters something about breakfast and slides out of bed before Credence has become fully awake.

He's actually 40 now, Percival reasons, as he stands in their sun filled kitchen, making breakfast. It's probably time to start taking more care of his body if he wants to reach 50, which means healthier eating. And spending less time chasing violent criminals across New York, but healthy eating is a good start as any. He has a bit of a tummy, after all. It's barley noticeable, but Percival knows it's there, and that's enough.

"Where's the cheese?" Credence mumbles around a mouthful of Percival's specialty – omelet with onion, spinach, tomatoes and cheese (except, not this time). It's a dish Percival only makes on special occasions or on lazy days. Most days, breakfast is a bowl of cereal quickly shoved into his mouth by the spoonful.

"I'm trying to be healthy," Percival explains, suddenly feeling bashful. He's embarrassed about having to admit it, even if he doesn't know why. Millions of people omit certain ingredients or foods from their diets to stay healthier, and there's no shame in that. But something about the way Credence is making wide eyes at him makes him feel like he's doing something wrong. "I'm 40 now. I need to look after my body."

Credence just nods at that, not bringing the subject up again and Percival feels stupidly grateful for it.

He starts walking to work. It's not far, well within walking distance, and most days it's a nice sunshine filled stroll. Fresh air and all that. Percival is, after all, spending most hours of the day inside a stuffy office, he needs the fresh air and sunshine on his skin. It's got nothing to do with the fact that he's been eating healthier than ever and his tummy is still there. And it's got absolutely nothing to do with Credence getting an internship at the Department of Magical Creatures, under the leadership of Fitzwilliam Jr, a young, confident and very fit man, about 30 years old, who, last time Percival went by for a lunch visit, had Credence in absolute stitches.

It doesn't help that Fitzwilliam, Tina and Queenie are doing their best to introduce Credence to the popular culture of the Wizarding world, a world that feels about as foreign for Percival as he images it does for Credence. Percival is not, he has to admit, familiar with the tunes that fills their home most evenings, Credence babbling on about this and that new, popular thing Mr Fitzwilliam showed him that day. Somehow, that's the one thing that makes him feel even older than he is.

But it's not like he's bitter, or anything.

*

Percival knows very well that he's no longer in his twenties, but he can't help but feel betrayed by his own body when they have sex and Credence is ready to go again after five minutes, and Percival can barely muster up the energy to roll over to go to sleep. But what he lacks in stamina, he makes up for in sheer experience, and learning that he can bring Credence over the edge simply by drawing the young man near and whisper filthy things in his ear is an experience to say the least. And it doesn't require anything more of Percival than talking, which is a thing he can totally handle.

Percival does his best to stick to his new regime, to eating healthy and walking to work, even when it's pouring down. Most days, Credence walks with him, which is nice.

"Why are you not wearing your glasses?" Credence asks one evening, when they've both returned from their respective days at MACUSA's headquarters. They're sitting in the living room, Percival reading the paper, which he didn't have time to do before leaving for work, and Credence immersing himself in Percival's old school books. Or so Percival thought, at least.

Percival looks up, catching Credence staring at him. He doesn't know what to say, so he simply grunts in reply, intent on getting back into reading about the American bank system.

"I'm serious," Credence says, catching Percival's attention once again. "Why are you not wearing them?"

"I don't like them," Percival grumbles after a few beats of silence.

"That's stupid," Credence answers. "I think you should wear them. I'll go get them."

"No!" Percival hadn't meant for his disagreement to come out so loudly, really.

Credence, who has stood up, about to go looking for Percival's glasses, jumps. "Why not?"

"They make me feel old. I don't want to admit I need them to read."

After a bit of silence, Credence moves across the room, settling down next to Percival on the couch. "This isn't just about the glasses, is it?" he asks, and Percival can't bring himself to deny it.

"No," he mutters, embarrassed. "Wearing them reminds me that I need them and needing them means I'm old. I'm 40 years old, and I've always thought of 40 as almost ancient."

"Is this the reason for the healthy eating and the walking to work every day, as well?"

"Yes."

"And it's only because of your age?" Credence inquires, putting a hand on Percival's leg.

"No. It's you too. You could have anyone you wanted and I can't for the life of me figure out why you'd settle for me."

"Percival..."

"No, you're not even 25, what are you doing with an old person when you could be with, say, Fitzwilliam? He makes you laugh, he's gorgeous and he doesn't need glasses and can, I'm sure, keep up with you when it comes to sex."

"Well, for starters, Mr Fitzwilliam isn't an invert and he's happily married to a woman. Besides, I wouldn't leave you for him just because you think he's gorgeous. He's not that attractive to me."

"Credence-"

"No, you listen to me, Percival. I love you for who you are, whatever age you happen to be. I don't care if your body isn't in peak condition at all times, your body is not why I love you. Taking care of your body and eating only healthy foods aren't things that are going to keep me with you. Your personality is why I stay, why I fell in love to begin with."

Percival will never admit it, but he does feel himself tearing up a little at the end of Credence's impromptu little speech.

"And for the record, I love you wearing your glasses, and I've been very displeased you haven't been wearing them as much lately. Which is why I'll go look for them right now. Why don't you join me and then, when we find them, I can show you just how sexy I think you look with them on?"

Credence gets up from the couch, a wide grin on his face, stretching out his hand towards Percival. Folding his newspaper, Percival grips the offered hand and let's himself be hauled off the couch and towards their bedroom.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it!


End file.
